Johann Strauss and Die Fledermaus The operetta Die Fledermaus comes out of a period when Vienna, Austria was experiencing significant change. Vienna was one of the most important capitals in Europe during the nineteenth century and was often called the 'city of dreams'. This was the golden age of the Hapsburgs, the most prosperous royal family in continental Europe, and Vienna was their capitol. This atmosphere was perfect for the growth of the entertainment industry, such as it was and in the midst of this, the need for entertaining music: party music, dance music and theatre music. It's fascinating that the production of virtually all of this music ended up falling into the hands of a single family of musicians: the Strauss family who had no fewer than six members involved in part of a musical dynasty that lasted from the 1830s to the 1960s. The most important Strausses were the two Johanns, Johann the elder who was the first Strauss to be described as 'the waltz king', and his eldest son Johann who single-handedly codified the dance form which we now know as the Viennese waltz. Johann Strauss, Jr.

gave us such famous waltzes as the "Tales of the Vienna Woods", "Wine, Women and Song" and "On the Beautiful Blue Danube". The younger Strauss would have gone into the music history books for only having created these beautiful masterpieces, but he did one other thing. He took what was once a French theatrical form, dressed it up with plenty Austrian flavor and created the Viennese operetta, an entertainment that audiences all over the world began to clamor for after the premiere of his most beloved work: the charming and hilarious comedy, Die Fledermaus. An operetta is like an opera in that much of the story is told through song with characters dressed in period costumes, surrounded by beautiful sets and accompanied by the orchestra. But the big difference between operetta and opera is that in operetta the style of the music is much more popular, and there is often more spoken dialogue in an operetta than what you'll ever get in grand opera. The operetta is rather like today's Broadway musicals, like Cats, Phantom of the Opera, The Producers or Rent.

The origin of the operetta was actually Paris, France where, in the 1850s, the composer Jacques Offenbach was having great success with short, one-act comedies that poked fun at the politicians, aristocrats and wealthy merchants, as well as the social mores of the day. Night after night his theatre was stormed by audiences starving for evenings of light musical entertainment. For these audiences, the opera companies in Paris were getting far too serious and pretentious for their own good and Offenbach seemed to hit on a formula that proved to be successful. Offenbach and his operettas traveled throughout Europe, and it wasn't too long before his works were also the center of attention in Vienna where young Austrian composers began to try their hand at writing similar works. But it wasn't until 1871 that the Viennese operetta found its most natural expression in the music of Johann Strauss. Born in 1825 the young Johann was the eldest of six children. His father didn't want him to go into music: he wanted him to go into banking and stay away from the 'family business'.

But under the watchful eye of his mother, he took violin and music theory lessons secretly until 1842 when his parents separated. After this Johann took formal musical instruction and eventually wound up establishing himself with his own orchestra. It wasn't long before he was his father's only rival in the composition and performance of dance music, especially the waltz. After his father's death in 1849, his and his father's orchestras were merged into one and he became the Waltz King in the hearts of all Viennese. He was even given a royal position for his accomplishments. But it must be remembered that this was Habspurg Vienna and virtually everything was accompanied by the infectious rhythms of the waltz. And no one, not even his father, could write a waltz quite like Johann Strauss. Like the creation of many great works of the theatre there is a lot of legend around the composition of Die Fledermaus. We do know that the composer Jacques Offenbach was a great admirer of the music of Strauss, and he told his fellow composer that his musical style could easily be adapted to the stage. Strauss was flattered but not entirely convinced.

It was Strauss' wife, who was herself a singer of some importance in Vienna, who tipped the scales by secretly having words set to some of his already existing waltzes and giving them to the director of the Theater an der Wien, Max Steiner. The Theater an der Wien was one of Vienna's most important theaters. Steiner was a clever producer, and sensing that he could make a lot of money by producing stage works from the pen of Vienna's most popular composer, he did his best to find poets who could do justice to his music. With these poets Strauss wrote a few early operettas, but these didn't do too well. It wasn't until the theatre director Steiner offered Strauss a text that had been discarded by Offenbach that he found the inspiration to begin Die Fledermaus. This was a play (Le réveillon) written by Offenbach's official poets, Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy. Steiner handed the French original over to an experienced man of the theatre, Richard Genée, whose work with the material made the story more truly Viennese. According to legend, Strauss wrote steadily for 43 days, neglecting food and sleep until the work was finished.

We now know that this is probably not true. The work was certainly outlined within a six week period, but it actually took six months before the work finally hit the stage in April, 1874. The other myth that surrounds the first production of Die Fledermaus is that it was unsuccessful, running only 16 performances before closing. We now know that another traveling opera company was booked for the Theater an der Wien and the operetta closed out of necessity, not due to lack of popularity. Its next production was in Berlin, where it was extremely successful. Back at the Theater an der Wien for a revival later on the same year it was a runaway hit. Since then Die Fledermaus has never left the active repertory. Guide to Musical Theatre - Operetta 1) English book and lyrics by Alfred Kalisch, 2) book and lyrics by Christopher Hassall, 3) book by Edmund Tracey, lyrics by Christopher Hassall Composed non-stop in forty-two 'nights of veritable rapture' this is the younger Strauss's most celebrated and popular operetta - intoxicatingly melodious and exuberant.

Mistaken identities, flirtations at a masked ball, elegant frivolities and confusions of all kinds provide a hilarious vehicle for some of the most captivating music ever written. A blissful show - especially rewarding for societies with high singing standards.The Overture is one of the most popular ever written, with five of the best tunes woven into a framework of the great 'Fledermaus Waltz'. Act I An old flame has come looking for Rosalinde Eisenstein - Alfred, a hot blooded tenor. Rosalinde has long since married - but that does not deter Alfred. He stands beneath her window and sings a serenade. Alfred's high Cs still have their old insinuating charm. But what a day he has picked! Rosalinde's husband is due to report to prison for an eight-day sentence for riotous behaviour. He cannot get out of it, and comes home raging and ranting, deaf to reason. Consolingly, Rosalinde tries to make her husband's last hours of freedom pleasant. For one thing, she flatly refuses to give the maid, Adèle, the evening off. Adèle's excuses are renowned. This time she says her aunt has measles.

But in truth she has had a letter from her sister suggesting she 'borrow' a dress and attend a ball at Count Orlofsky's palace. She is desperate to get the evening off. Rosalinde is unmoved; her thoughts are still running on Alfred and his top C. Just when Eisenstein has settled into a mood of utter dejection, his old friend Doctor Falke arrives. Doctor Falke and Eisenstein have shared a lot of good times together. There was the time, for instance, when they went to a fancy-dress ball with Eisenstein dressed as a butterfly and Falke dressed as a bat; Falke got drunk and Eisenstein, instead of seeing him home, dumped him on a park bench so that in the morning he had to walk home through the city dressed as a bat. Now Falke has another excursion in mind. As soon as Rosalinde is out of the room, he proposes an evening at Count Orlofsky's ball. 'But I have to report to gaol in an hour!' 'You can turn yourself in tomorrow morning,' says Falke, and quickly persuades Eisenstein to accompany him using a false name, of course.

(There might even be an opportunity for Eisenstein to get out his infallible pocket watch - the one the girls cannot resist.) Eisenstein hurriedly puts on evening dress, telling his wife that he must face up to gaol in style. The fond farewells begin. Adèle joins in the lament in much the same mood of suppressed delight as Rosalinda and Eisenstein. For Rosalinde has had a change of heart and decided to give her maid the evening off after all. Rosalinde still has Alfred in mind. No sooner is Rosalinde left alone in the house than a parcel arrives - a mask, a wig and a cryptic note from Doctor Falke: "If you want to see your husband dancing away his prison term, wear these and come to Count Orlofsky's palace tonight." In high dudgeon, Rosalinde's plans for evening with Alfred change rapidly. Unfortunately Alfred is not so willing to alter his plans. Amorous and shameless, he makes himself at home in Eisenstein's clothes, eating Eisenstein's supper and planning breakfast with Eisenstein's wife. When yet another visitor is heard coming up the stairs, Rosalinde is at her wits' end.

It is Frank, the prison governor. Though he too is on his way to Count Orlofsky's ball, he has come in person to escort his esteemed prisoner to gaol. Seeing Alfred (slightly the worse for drinking Eisenstein's wine) he immediately assumes it is Eisenstein. Alfred begins to contradict him, but Rosalinde hastily assures the prison governor that this is indeed her husband. Alfred is a great fatalist. He accepts the situation as unavoidable and makes the best he can of it, with a long goodbye to Rosalinde. Then he surrenders himself into Frank's custody. Act II Prince Orlofsky's parties are legendary. They delight everyone but him. Orlofsky suffers from that terrible disease of billionaires-ennui: everything bores him! He cannot laugh. Tonight, Doctor Falke is his 'Master of the Revels' and has arranged something special for the Count's amusement. Orlofsky promises to pin a medal on Falke's chest if it makes him laugh. When the Act opens, the guests are singing in praise of the occasion. Adèle receives a less than warm welcome from her sister. 'Letter? What letter?

I didn't send you a letter!' Falke sent it. He greets Adele warmly, congratulates her on her new career as an actress, and rechristens her 'Tanya'. A moment later Eisenstein arrives, calling himself the Marquis Renard. First he makes the grave faux pas of mistaking the elegant actress Tanya for his housemaid! The guests take him to task in 'The Laughing Song'. Adèle joins in. Next, Eisenstein strikes up an undying friendship with Chevalier Chagrin, the pseudonym being used by prison governor Frank. But by the time Falke's chief guest of the evening arrives - a masked Hungarian Countess - Eisenstein has a pair of dancing girls on each arm and his infallible chiming watch at the ready. He is extremely taken with the mysterious foreign lady. Being well acquainted with the watch and its uses, the 'Countess' (Rosalinde in disguise of course) encourages Eisenstein to put it through its paces. During 'The Watch Duet', she manages to take it from him in such a way that he dare not ask for it back. He bewails his disgrace at losing it.

Orlofsky's entertainments of course include a ballet - an obligatory ingredient in operettas of the period. This one is usually danced to one of the famous Strauss waltzes, although, for the original, Strauss wrote a sequence of national dances Spanish, Scottish, Russian, Hungarian Then the 'Hungarian Countess' obliges the guests by singing a native Hungarian folksong - a Czardas. Then Count Orlofsky toasts the life and soul of the party - 'Champagne the Great!' Frank and Eisenstein are, by this stage, inseparable. The mood is one of universal friendship as Orlofsky begins the dancing with a waltz - the waltz! The clock strikes midnight. Like twin Cinderellas, Eisenstein and Frank scramble out of doors, leaving behind a wake of wrong coats and hats, not realising that they are headed for the same destination. Act III The Gaol Scene opens with a cameo comic sketch. Frosch, the drunken deputy warder, is suffering from a surfeit of drink and Alfred's singing in the cells. Frank comes reeling in and falls asleep. Adèle and her sister arrive at the door.

They have taken up Frank on his invitation to come and live with him in his 'big town house'- an offer made while the 'Chevalier Chagrin' was not quite himself. Adèle promptly launches into The Audition Song. No time for applause before the bell rings again. Eisenstein is at the door, reporting for his sentence. Frank refuses to believe Eisenstein is Eisenstein. After all, he arrested Eisenstein the night before, while the prisoner was in his dressing gown, having supper with his wife. Eisenstein demands to see this prisoner, but nobody is allowed into the cells. Fortuitously, his lawyer, Blind, arrives at that very moment. Eisenstein demands the lawyer's hat, glasses, cape, briefcase and beard (!), and dresses up as Blind. Alfred is brought out to consult with his lawyer. He encounters the latest arrival: Rosalinde is in a state of great agitation, partly because of her husband's behaviour at the ball and partly because discovery of her supper with Alfred is inevitable. Alfred explains to his 'lawyer' that he has been wrongfully arrested and how it came about.

Rosalinde explains how unfortunate it might seem if anyone were to find out about the innocent little supper. They find their lawyer surprisingly hostile. Eisenstein takes off his disguise and confronts them as a wronged husband. But nobody is penitent. Rosalinde dangles the chiming watch under her husband's nose. The entire Orlofsky retinue pour in and bring an end to the confusion. Falke has brought the Count and his party-goers to the prison to conclude 'The Revenge of the Bat'. He explains that every disguise, every pseudonym, every compromising situation was part of his revenge on the man who left him on a park bench dressed as a bat. Rosalinde blames her husband's excesses on Champagne the Great, and Orlofsky decides to sponsor Adèle in her acting career. There is a perfect excuse for everyone to break into the Champagne Song - and laughing out loud, Orlofsky pins a medal on Doctor Falke's chest.

Principals: 4 female, 8 male (1 non-singing comedy character) Gabriel von Eisenstein - a man of private means - Tenor Rosalinde, his wife - Soprano Die Fledermaus Die Fledermaus Libretto: Carl Haffner & Richard Genée Based on the Vaudeville Le réveillon by Henri Meilhac & Ludovic Halévy First Produced: Theater an der Wien, Vienna, 1974 Present text adapted by Stephen Lawless & Daniel Dooner Translated by Johanna May Gabriel von Eisenstein: Thomas Allen Adele: Lyubov Petrova Bit Rate: High (30~37 Mbps) German LPCM 5.0 Subtitles: English, French, German, Spanish & Dutch Region: All Comment The history of Johann Strauss II’s most famous and most enduring operetta raises the question of what constitutes an opera, as distinguished from “operetta” on the one hand and “musical” on the other. The answer, my dear reader, is both elementary and nuanced. The simple answer is that it all depends on where it is staged.

This may seem a casual, even flippant observation, but it contains more than a kernel of truth. Just ask George Gershwin. The other answer is that it depends on its pedigree. Operettas trace their genealogy back to the mid-nineteenth century starting with Hervé and, later, Offenbach, the opéra comique and the lyric theatre. Operas date from the early seventeenth century. They had serious, often classical Greek themes that were first successfully produced by composers like Claudio Monteverdi and Francesco Cavalli. Sex and murder could not be far off, and we get copious doses in the early eighteenth century Italian operas of Handel. Mozart, though he wasn’t the first to make an opera audience laugh, can be credited for bringing comic and satirical themes to the same stage that once only played music dripping with sanctity. The development of the American musical parallels roughly that of the European operetta, but delayed about 50-75 years. Both have their roots in vaudeville. The idea that operas are high brow and operettas and musicals are low is facile, but fairly simple-minded in the face of Mozart, Rossini and Johann Strauss.

The man very likely responsible for bridging the divide – and if the Paris Opéra Comique had anything to say about it, the Grand Canyon is a crack in the pavement by comparison - just ask Hector Berlioz – is none other than Gustav Mahler, who, you will remember, made his living as a conductor rather than as a composer. It was he, blessed be his name, who brought Die Fledermaus to the stage of the Hamburg Opera House about twenty years after its premiere in Vienna as an operetta. Since then, Strauss’ tuneful comedy has enjoyed operatic status in all the major opera houses of Europe and elsewhere. Voila! What’s it all about? It is unlikely that you are unfamiliar with Die Fledermaus - or, at least, some of its memorable tunes. The opera has a certain appeal to television audiences and New Years Day celebrations where Prince Orlofsky’s party entertainment included first rank soloists of the day. Its plot is complex, but not especially hard to follow.

You might think of it as a contemporary sequel to “The Marriage of Figaro” in that in both stories there are forces at work to unmask a philandering husband in what turns out to be a comic, yet sincere opportunity for penance. In the Mozart opera, it is the Count who is unmasked by his wife; he apologizes with an eloquence that only Mozart could have us accept. In the Strauss it is Gabriel von Eisenstein, “a man of means,” who is upended by a friend seeking revenge for being the butt of one of Eisenstein’s more humiliating practical jokes. Eisenstein is revealed for the rake he is, and though forgiven by his wife, he gets eight days in prison to think over his misdeeds. I am reminded of James Stewart’s remark to Kathryn Hepburn in The Philadelphia Story: “With the rich and mighty, always a little patience.” We certainly enjoy poking fun at them, but we also understand, or believe, that they are in some ways helpless creatures. It’s not just ego and power that makes sexual opportunists of celebrities and men in high places, it’s that money buys the ability to cover our weaknesses.

Consider the title of Strauss’ opera “The Bat”: you know, those creatures that hide themselves in the day and come out to play at night. And what better device to hide in and permit us to indulge ourselves than a masked ball, especially where the champagne flows like water and everyone there lives a double life. The libretto is ripe with sexual double entendres and puns. The text is so suggestive that the actors just can’t help themselves pointing, touching, fondling, kissing until the clothes come off or are cross dressed. Lawless’ setting the action just into the 20th century permits more liberties in this direction than Strauss likely envisioned. Performance A remarkably international and not especially German-born cast does very well indeed with the special demands of the spoken dialogue (it’s easier to fudge on the singing). None of the four principals are German, starting with Pamela Armstrong (Virginia) and Thomas Allen (England). Russian soprano Lyubov Petrova was trained in Moscow and at the Metropolitan Opera Lindemann Young Artist Development Program, and tenor Pär Lindskog is Swedish and is therefore multi-lingual; a first rate tenor playing a second rate tenor, somehow convincing us of both.

The talented Swedish mezzo Malena Ernman pulls off the trouser role of Prince Orlofsky with scarcely a wink to the audience. Perhaps you recall Papgeno in Ingmar Berman’s now classic film of Mozart’s Magic Flute - he is our Falke here: Håkan Hagegård’s baritone has ripened and struck me as even more flexible - probably just an illusion, like everything else about this production. And I especially liked the warm sound of German Bass Artur Korn as Frank, the prison supervisor. One bit of tid I just learned from my research is that Miss Armstrong is an asthmatic and often keeps her inhaler tucked away in her costumes. Now that’s courage at many levels. Glyndebourne's 31-year old Russian music director, Vladimir Jurowski, who can be seen on camera flirting with the orchestra during a couple of interludes, whips up the London Philharmonic to a measure of elegance, sensuality, wit and dash that surprised this fan. Ensemble within the orchestra and with the singers is just about perfect. They seemed to be having a great time and result is contagious.

Staging Stephen Lawless makes a big deal out of his placing the action thirty years hence, but I suspect of greater impact are the brilliant stage designs of Benoit Dugardyn, especially the continually revolving curtains and staircases of the second act that seem to enclose a kind of glass cage prison, and the way Lawless moves his actors across and through them, from one room to the next, as it were. The set design and the way it is photographed is worth the price of the disc alone. Video & Audio Overall, Opus Arte’s video image is very good, especially as it has to deal with scenes having a wide range of light values. Indeed, there are moments when Eisenstein’s white shirt is overexposed, but in general, the image is quite good at maintaining shadow detail, control of highlights, and expressing proper color. There is, however, some noise in the early part of the too dark for my taste third act. Back to Eisenstein for a moment: We can confirm from the Bonus Features that grey and pasty is not Thomas Allen’s natural condition. In strong light he looks positively ill. Everyone else comes off healthy.

The audio mix (both in 5.0 and stereo) does a fine job defining the voices, rather than separating them. Spoken dialogue, of which there is a great deal, is clear and unsibilant. Singing is, with one notable moment of disgrace, beautifully rendered for men and women, and the amusing Malena Ernman’s Prince Orlofsky is dripping with parody when speaking and astonishingly engaging when singing. The mistake just referred to is almost certainly in the engineering somewhere along the signal path and is uncomfortably given the kiss of death at the very end of Lyubov Petrova’s second act “Adele's Laughing Song.” The sounds in both the 5.0 and 2.0 mix that are attributed to her at this point, instead of being examples of virtuosity, are positively inhuman shrieks - and it ain’t her. As is more common than not with Blu-ray opera recordings from Glyndebourne, the orchestra is lucid, full-bodied, with properly distinguished instrumental timbres, and, to my delight, not wrapped around the audience in the surround mix.

I also liked that the onstage musicians are not enhanced but remained in recessive balance with the pit orchestra as they might be heard from the audience. Bonus Opus Arte lists quite a number of Bonus items in the menu. Some are comments by the cast (Pamela Armstrong, Thomas Allen, Haka Håkan Hagegård,) about their characters and their personal introductions to them; one is by the conductor Vladimir Jurowski who comments on the score and demonstrates his points on the piano; another is a segment featuring director Stephen Lawless who talks about his decision to set the story in the early twentieth century and makes some pertinent remarks about the set design. What's missing here is an extended feature about that set. Another brief segment about the “Genesis of the Waltz” and its effect on Europe ballrooms is worth a look; the Frosch interlude is included as a kind of outtake. Two photo galleries (for cast and sets) round out the offerings. Opus Arte’s usual nicely produced booklet features, in addition to a synopsis and notes by Stephen Lawless, an essay by Tom Sutcliffe who discusses the history of the opera.

Recommendation Opus Arte’s 2008 Blu-ray release of Stephen Lawless’ 2003 Glyndebourne Festival production of Die Fledermaus is top drawer entertainment at every level. There’s Johann Strauss II’s infectious music that will twirl around in your head for days after, Benoit Dugardyn’s ingenious sets, totally brilliant casting and superb singing and acting by all, and realized in exceedingly good, if not quite flawless video and audio. Except for a slackening of the suspense in the third act, where Eisenstein is not quite as “caught” as we want, Strauss’ opera is non-stop pleasure. Smilingly recommended. Johann Strauss II: Die Fledermaus - Classic FM Classic FM Johann Strauss II: Die Fledermaus "You ought to write operettas, Herr Strauss." So said French composer Jacques Offenbach to his Austrian counterpart, at a time when Strauss was more known for writing short-form dances.

Die Fledermaus, his most famous operetta, is primarily loved for what happens before anyone sets foot on the stage: the eight-minute overture is packed full of tunes from start to finish, all of which end up appearing during the course of the action that follows. Vienna had been captivated by Offenbach’s numerous operettas. When Strauss, one of their own, began to embrace this musical form, the public was delighted. Translating literally as ‘The Bat’, Die Fledermaus was written over a two-year period from 1873 and is entirely frivolous in nature. The plot is utterly farcical, focusing on mistaken identity, flirtation and a practical joke that has rather unforeseen consequences. Its utter accessibility – both musically and dramatically – made it a sure-fire hit, and ensured that Strauss was inspired to go on and write operetta after operetta over the next twenty-five years. Strauss himself was at the podium for the very first performance of Die Fledermaus, which took place at the Theater an der Wien on 5 April 1874.

Recommended Recording Illustration: Mark Millington Kiri Te Kanawa (soprano) as Rosalinde; Edita Gruberova (soprano) as Adele; Brigitte Fassbaender (mezzo-soprano) as Orlofsky; Vienna State Opera Chorus; Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra ; André Previn (conductor). Philips: 4321572. Die Fledermaus - San Diego Opera Die Fledermaus In the Classroom Johann Strauss and Die Fledermaus The operetta Die Fledermaus comes out of a period when Vienna, Austria was experiencing significant change. Vienna was one of the most important capitals in Europe during the nineteenth century and was often called the 'city of dreams'. This was the golden age of the Hapsburgs, the most prosperous royal family in continental Europe, and Vienna was their capitol. This atmosphere was perfect for the growth of the entertainment industry, such as it was and in the midst of this, the need for entertaining music: party music, dance music and theatre music.

It's fascinating that the production of virtually all of this music ended up falling into the hands of a single family of musicians: the Strauss family who had no fewer than six members involved in part of a musical dynasty that lasted from the 1830s to the 1960s. The most important Strausses were the two Johanns, Johann the elder who was the first Strauss to be described as 'the waltz king', and his eldest son Johann who single-handedly codified the dance form which we now know as the Viennese waltz. Johann Strauss, Jr. gave us such famous waltzes as the "Tales of the Vienna Woods", "Wine, Women and Song" and "On the Beautiful Blue Danube". The younger Strauss would have gone into the music history books for only having created these beautiful masterpieces, but he did one other thing. He took what was once a French theatrical form, dressed it up with plenty Austrian flavor and created the Viennese operetta, an entertainment that audiences all over the world began to clamor for after the premiere of his most beloved work: the charming and hilarious comedy, Die Fledermaus.

An operetta is like an opera in that much of the story is told through song with characters dressed in period costumes, surrounded by beautiful sets and accompanied by the orchestra. But the big difference between operetta and opera is that in operetta the style of the music is much more popular, and there is often more spoken dialogue in an operetta than what you'll ever get in grand opera. The operetta is rather like today's Broadway musicals, like Cats, Phantom of the Opera, The Producers or Rent. The origin of the operetta was actually Paris, France where, in the 1850s, the composer Jacques Offenbach was having great success with short, one-act comedies that poked fun at the politicians, aristocrats and wealthy merchants, as well as the social mores of the day. Night after night his theatre was stormed by audiences starving for evenings of light musical entertainment. For these audiences, the opera companies in Paris were getting far too serious and pretentious for their own good and Offenbach seemed to hit on a formula that proved to be successful.

Offenbach and his operettas traveled throughout Europe, and it wasn't too long before his works were also the center of attention in Vienna where young Austrian composers began to try their hand at writing similar works. But it wasn't until 1871 that the Viennese operetta found its most natural expression in the music of Johann Strauss. Born in 1825 the young Johann was the eldest of six children. His father didn't want him to go into music: he wanted him to go into banking and stay away from the 'family business'. But under the watchful eye of his mother, he took violin and music theory lessons secretly until 1842 when his parents separated. After this Johann took formal musical instruction and eventually wound up establishing himself with his own orchestra. It wasn't long before he was his father's only rival in the composition and performance of dance music, especially the waltz. After his father's death in 1849, his and his father's orchestras were merged into one and he became the Waltz King in the hearts of all Viennese. He was even given a royal position for his accomplishments.

But it must be remembered that this was Habspurg Vienna and virtually everything was accompanied by the infectious rhythms of the waltz. And no one, not even his father, could write a waltz quite like Johann Strauss. Like the creation of many great works of the theatre there is a lot of legend around the composition of Die Fledermaus. We do know that the composer Jacques Offenbach was a great admirer of the music of Strauss, and he told his fellow composer that his musical style could easily be adapted to the stage. Strauss was flattered but not entirely convinced. It was Strauss' wife, who was herself a singer of some importance in Vienna, who tipped the scales by secretly having words set to some of his already existing waltzes and giving them to the director of the Theater an der Wien, Max Steiner. The Theater an der Wien was one of Vienna's most important theaters. Steiner was a clever producer, and sensing that he could make a lot of money by producing stage works from the pen of Vienna's most popular composer, he did his best to find poets who could do justice to his music. With these poets Strauss wrote a few early operettas, but these didn't do too well.

It wasn't until the theatre director Steiner offered Strauss a text that had been discarded by Offenbach that he found the inspiration to begin Die Fledermaus. This was a play (Le réveillon) written by Offenbach's official poets, Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy. Steiner handed the French original over to an experienced man of the theatre, Richard Genée, whose work with the material made the story more truly Viennese. According to legend, Strauss wrote steadily for 43 days, neglecting food and sleep until the work was finished. We now know that this is probably not true. The work was certainly outlined within a six week period, but it actually took six months before the work finally hit the stage in April, 1874. The other myth that surrounds the first production of Die Fledermaus is that it was unsuccessful, running only 16 performances before closing. We now know that another traveling opera company was booked for the Theater an der Wien and the operetta closed out of necessity, not due to lack of popularity. Its next production was in Berlin, where it was extremely successful.

Back at the Theater an der Wien for a revival later on the same year it was a runaway hit. Since then Die Fledermaus has never left the active repertory. The Music of Die Fledermaus The overture of Die Fledermaus perfectly captures the spirit of the entire score, because virtually every note of this operetta is inspired by the rhythms of the dances which were wildly popular all over Europe in 1874. Although we think of Strauss as the Waltz King, he was just as prolific in the composition of other dances like the polka and the galop or can can. The polka, a Bohemian dance introduced in Prague in 1837, became so popular that the term 'polkamania' was coined to describe the phenomenon. And in fact there are almost as many polkas in Die Fledermaus as there are waltzes, for example the polkas that appear in Act I accompanying Adele's reading of her sister's letter inviting her to Orlovsky's party and as the trio for Rosalinde, Adele and Eisenstein.

Rosalinde gets her own polka at the very end of Act I, as she diffuses the suspicions of Frank the jailer and sends Alfred off to prison in the place of her husband. Act II begins with a polka and most famously the finale of Act II is centered on another polka, the so-called 'Champagne Trio' and chorus, the text of which celebrates the inebriating effects of this sparkling beverage. But it is the lilt of the Viennese waltz that gives Die Fledermaus its soul and each waltz is fabricated by the composer to match the sentiments of the text. When Alfred invites Rosalinde to drink away their cares as he attempts to seduce her, Strauss accompanies the seduction with a waltz. In Act II, the disguised Eisenstein approaches the similarly disguised Adele, absolutely sure that this woman is his wife's maid; Adele puts him off with the famous waltz, "My dear Marquis".

(Strauss seems to be pioneering a compositional method later used by Richard Strauss [not of the same family, by the way!] in his opera Der Rosenkavalier, in which the composer uses the waltz as a musical symbol of deception…in Rosenkavalier, whenever we hear the waltz rhythm, a character is lying about something. One almost wants to say that whenever one hears a waltz in Die Fledermaus, a character is involved in the seduction of another!) There are even waltzes that we don't consciously think are waltzes such as the lovely Brüderlein introduced by Dr. Falke at the climax of the ball to toast brotherhood and love. Suddenly we realize that the waltz is capable of being melancholy, sentimental and wistful, not just danceable. But then, of course, we have the sparkling exuberance of the Fledermaus waltz itself, first heard in the overture and then again as the culmination of the masked ball at the end of Act II. This score is infectious. The tunes and rhythms seep into your very soul and carry you away.

That is, of course, what the producers hoped in 1874 at the Theater an der Wien when Die Fledermaus premiered. The "Black Friday" Stock Exchange crash had occurred the year before (in 1873), the Imperial house of Hapsburg was beginning to crumble and already the elements that would bring about the First World War were appearing as microscopic rips in the glittering fabric that was Vienna. In the same way that the Busby Berkeley film musicals of the 1930s helped Americans deal with the Depression, operettas like Die Fledermaus gave contemporary Viennese audiences a way to escape their very real fears about the decaying world around them. Synopsis Act I Rosalinde von Eisenstein is being serenaded through the windows of her home by Alfred, a former suitor who is a singer. As she listens, her maid Adele enters the salon, reading a letter from her sister Ida, who has invited Adele to join her at a party that night in the home of Prince Orlofsky. Adele asks Rosalinde for the evening off, creating a story that she needs to attend to a sick aunt.

Unfortunately, Rosalinde's husband, Gabriel von Eisenstein, is due to spend a few days in jail for fighting with a police officer, and Rosalinde will not grant the time away, for she does not want to be alone, and she insists that her husband have a good meal before he leaves (duet: "Ach, ich darf nicht hin zu dir!"). After Adele leaves, Alfred tells Rosalinde that he is aware that Eisenstein will be away for a few days, and that he will visit again that night. She is shocked by his intentions to call on a married woman, and she sends him away. Eisenstein enters with his lawyer, Dr. Blind, whose tactics have managed to get Eisenstein a longer jail sentence than originally planned. Blind leaves, followed by Adele, who is sent off to get dinner, and Rosalinde who is off to look for old clothes that her husband might wear to jail. In the absence of the two ladies, Dr. Falke arrives and invites Eisenstein to that evening's party at Prince Orlofsky's villa.

He suggests that Eisenstein start his jail sentence the next day, and even mentions that he should bring his repeater stopwatch that is known to charm the ladies ("Komm mit mir zum Souper"). Eisenstein agrees and dons appropriate evening attire for the occasion. When Rosalinde returns she is puzzled about her husband's wearing formal attire to jail, but pays little attention, as she is looking forward to Alfred's visit. With her husband gone and Alfred on the way, she grants Adele the night off, and serves Alfred the dinner that had been prepared for her husband. However, their evening is only to be interrupted by Prison Warden Frank, who has come to take Eisenstein away. Unable to admit that she was dining at such an hour with a man who is not her husband, she claims that Alfred is indeed Eisenstein, and Alfred is taken off to jail by the warden. Act II Upon her arrival at Prince Orlofsky's party, Adele joins her sister, and learns that Ida was not the person who sent her the invitation.

Falke has actually invited her as a part of his scheme that he calls "The Bat's Revenge." This night he hopes to get even with Eisenstein for abandoning him in a park after a party at carnival, where Falke woke up the next morning alone, still dressed in his bat costume from the night before. Prince Orlofsky also hopes to be amused by this prank, and informs his guests that boredom will not be tolerated at his party ("Ich lade gern mir Gäste ein"). Eisenstein arrives and is announced with the alias of "Marquis Renard;" Adele is presented as the actress "Mlle. Olga." When introduced to each other, Eisenstein swears that he recognizes her as his maid wearing his wife's dress, but he is assured by the other guests that she is not an imposter. She then turns the tables and challenges his alias ("Mein Herr Marquis"). Frank also arrives at the party, disguised as "Chevalier Chagrin." Rosalinde arrives next, announced as a Hungarian countess, just in time to see her husband flirting with their maid.

Eisenstein does not recognize the mysterious Countess as his wife when they are introduced, but tries to charm her with his watch (duet: "Dieser Anstand, so manierlich"). Just as he thinks that his charm is working, she takes his watch and then performs a Czardas to prove that she is Hungarian ("Die Klänge meiner Heimat"). Orlofsky proposes of toast of champagne, and suggests that everyone address each other casually and enjoy the spirit of the occasion. Eisenstein befriends Frank, and tries to unmask Rosalinde, but soon the clock strikes six, and he must report to jail. Act III Alfred passes the time in prison by singing, while Frosch, the drunken jailer, attempts to quiet him. Frank, who is also rather unsteady, arrives during this distraction, and is soon asleep, thinking of the night's events. Frosch brings in two visitors, Ida and Adele, to see the warden. Adele, believing that Frank is a wealthy nobleman, has come to request his help in establishing an acting career, and she shows off her talent ("Spiel' ich die Unschuld vom Lande").

Frank escorts the women to a waiting room as "Marquis Renard" arrives. The men reveal their true identities, but Frank does not believe that this man could be Eisenstein, for he has been accounted for in jail all night. Rosalinde arrives next, and as Frank leaves to bring her in, Eisenstein exchanges clothes with his lawyer Blind. The disguised Eisenstein questions Rosalinde and Alfred, and is enraged to discover that Alfred was apprehended during an intimate dinner with Rosalinde. Rosalinde retorts that she is the victim of a husband who lies about being with other women ("Es scheint mit fast, als empfinden Sie"). Eisenstein can bear this charade no longer, and reveals his identity to his wife ("Ja, ich bin's, den ihr betrogen"). As Rosalinde shows the watch she had taken, Eisenstein realizes that he has been caught in a scheme as well, as she was the "Hungarian Countess." Falke enters with the other guests from the previous night's party, and the plan of "The Bat's Revenge" is explained at last (ensemble: "So rächt sich die Fledermaus").

Believing that the dinner between Alfred and Rosalinde was also part of that plan, Eisenstein forgives his wife and asks her forgiveness in return. Orlofsky pledges to support Adele's career, and Rosalinde leads the merriment with a toast to King Champagne. CONNECT WITH US Opera Explained: STRAUSS - Die Fledermaus (Smillie) - 8.558070 Opera Explained: STRAUSS - Die Fledermaus (Smillie) Opera Explained An Introduction to... STRAUSS: Die Fledermaus Author: Thomson Smillie Naxos 8.558070 ISBN: 1-84379-086-6 Die Fledermaus is one of the few operatic works to which the phrase 'never a dull moment' can be truthfully applied.

From the explosive opening of the famous overture - reminiscent of a volley of champagne corks - through the surging energy of the 'Fledermaus Waltz' and the many comic numbers, of which the accelerando trio is the finest, up to such huge concerted numbers as the 'Duidu' finale to Act II, this is an operetta which almost incarnates nostalgia. Thomson Smillie and David Timson infuse their exploration of Die Fledermaus with as much life as the operetta itself. The most rewarding and memorable extracts are included, and the whole piece is tantalisingly introduced - a trip to see it has to be the next step! Timson begins, "'Nostalgia', as the saying goes, 'may not be what it used to be,' but thank goodness we still have Johann Strauss's Die Fledermaus!" The Music of Die Fledermaus The overture of Die Fledermaus perfectly captures the spirit of the entire score, because virtually every note of this operetta is inspired by the rhythms of the dances which were wildly popular all over Europe in 1874.

Although we think of Strauss as the Waltz King, he was just as prolific in the composition of other dances like the polka and the galop or can can. The polka, a Bohemian dance introduced in Prague in 1837, became so popular that the term 'polkamania' was coined to describe the phenomenon. And in fact there are almost as many polkas in Die Fledermaus as there are waltzes, for example the polkas that appear in Act I accompanying Adele's reading of her sister's letter inviting her to Orlovsky's party and as the trio for Rosalinde, Adele and Eisenstein. Rosalinde gets her own polka at the very end of Act I, as she diffuses the suspicions of Frank the jailer and sends Alfred off to prison in the place of her husband. Act II begins with a polka and most famously the finale of Act II is centered on another polka, the so-called 'Champagne Trio' and chorus, the text of which celebrates the inebriating effects of this sparkling beverage.

But it is the lilt of the Viennese waltz that gives Die Fledermaus its soul and each waltz is fabricated by the composer to match the sentiments of the text. When Alfred invites Rosalinde to drink away their cares as he attempts to seduce her, Strauss accompanies the seduction with a waltz. In Act II, the disguised Eisenstein approaches the similarly disguised Adele, absolutely sure that this woman is his wife's maid; Adele puts him off with the famous waltz, "My dear Marquis". (Strauss seems to be pioneering a compositional method later used by Richard Strauss [not of the same family, by the way!] in his opera Der Rosenkavalier, in which the composer uses the waltz as a musical symbol of deception…in Rosenkavalier, whenever we hear the waltz rhythm, a character is lying about something. One almost wants to say that whenever one hears a waltz in Die Fledermaus, a character is involved in the seduction of another!) There are even waltzes that we don't consciously think are waltzes such as the lovely Brüderlein introduced by Dr.

Falke at the climax of the ball to toast brotherhood and love. Suddenly we realize that the waltz is capable of being melancholy, sentimental and wistful, not just danceable. But then, of course, we have the sparkling exuberance of the Fledermaus waltz itself, first heard in the overture and then again as the culmination of the masked ball at the end of Act II. This score is infectious. The tunes and rhythms seep into your very soul and carry you away. That is, of course, what the producers hoped in 1874 at the Theater an der Wien when Die Fledermaus premiered. The "Black Friday" Stock Exchange crash had occurred the year before (in 1873), the Imperial house of Hapsburg was beginning to crumble and already the elements that would bring about the First World War were appearing as microscopic rips in the glittering fabric that was Vienna.

In the same way that the Busby Berkeley film musicals of the 1930s helped Americans deal with the Depression, operettas like Die Fledermaus gave contemporary Viennese audiences a way to escape their very real fears about the decaying world around them. AZOpera Johann Strauss II Biography Richard Wagner Johann Strauss II Johann (Baptist) Strauss II, the oldest son of celebrated composer and violinist Johann Strauss, was born in Vienna on October 25, 1825. Despite his great success, the elder Strauss was adamantly opposed to the idea of his son pursuing a career in music and intended Johann II to enter the banking profession. The younger Johann, however, displayed musical gifts at an early age. He began composing when he was six years old, and his mother arranged for him to secretly study violin with Franz Amon, the leader of his father's dance orchestra. When the senior Strauss abandoned the family, Johann pursued additional formal musical training. Johann II formed his own orchestra and made his professional debut as concertmaster and conductor in 1844, performing both his own works and those of his father.

When his father died in 1849, Joseph II combined the two orchestras. He was named Hofballmusikdirektor in 1863, a position he held until 1871, and engaged his brothers Josef and Eduard (both of whom were also composers) as conductors and violinists. Johann II enjoyed tremendous success as both composer and conductor, touring Europe, Russia, and the United States. He was (correctly) deemed the heir of his father's musical legacy, and inherited his father's title of "The Waltz King." Indeed, Johann Strauss II is best remembered for his waltzes and polkas, which include An der schönen, blauen Donau and the Pizzicato-Polka, which he wrote with his brother Eduard. Most of his better known dances were composed during the 1860's and early 1870's. He brought the Viennese waltz to its highest form with his gifts for melody, interesting harmonic structures, and clever orchestrations. By the 1870s, however, Strauss began to turn his attention to the stage.

Offenbach's comic operas were extremely popular in Vienna, and Strauss' first wife, the singer Henriette (Jetty) Treffz, joined members of the Vienna theater establishment in encouraging him to try his hand at operetta. After resigning his position as Hofballmusikdirektor in 1871, he devoted himself primarily to composing for the stage. Most of Strauss' subsequent dance music was excerpted from his operettas. Johann II was not as comfortable with music for the stage as he was with waltzes and polkas. He found the necessity of working within a specific text confining, and would often compose scenes and entire finales with only a brief excerpt of the libretto as reference. He lacked a strong theatrical sense and was more proficient at instrumental than vocal writing. The enduring success of his two finest stage works, Die Fledermaus and Der Zigeunerbaron , is due in part to the excellent work of his librettists (Richard Genée for , is due in part to the excellent work of his librettists (Richard Gen�e for Die Fledermaus and Ignaz Schnitzer for Der Zigeunerbaron ).

Strauss' first complete operetta, Indigo und die vierzig RäuberRäuber , premiered in 1871. The work was successful, as was his next operetta, Carneval in Rom, which debuted in 1873, but it was Die Fledermaus (1874) that is regarded as his masterpiece and the finest example of Viennese operetta. Strauss' works took operetta in a new direction, gradually veering away from the French opéras bouffes and evolving into a style that was purely Viennese. While Die Fledermaus is based upon the Offenbach model, Der Zigeunerbaron is a fusion of operetta with comic opera. Der Zigeunerbaron had serious as well as humorous elements, and established a new type of operetta that proved influential for other composers such as Lehár. had serious as well as humorous elements, and established a new type of operetta that proved influential for other composers such as Lehár. Strauss also aspired to compose serious opera. His efforts culminated in Ritter PázmánPázmán , which premiered in 1892.

It was not particularly successful, and Strauss resumed composing operettas. Many of his works underwent numerous revisions, sometimes as drastic as setting an entirely new libretto to the music. During his lifetime and after his death, there were also many attempts to create new operettas based upon collections of his best-known dance compositions, particularly the waltzes. Throughout his career, Strauss was very much in the public eye, both in Vienna and in his international travels. After the death of his first wife in 1878, he married the actress Angelika Dittrich. After nine years Strauss separated from her, and had to become a Protestant and give up his Austrian citizenship to divorce her. He then married Adele Strauss (her married name from a previous spouse who was not related to Johann's family). It was Adele who supported Johann's efforts to compose serious opera. Johann II became the most prominent of the Strauss family members, and he died a wealthy and famous man in 1899.

Question: 'Die Fledermaus' was one of the best known operas by which composer?
Answer: JOHANN STRAUS